


The Kids Aren't Alright

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: “Watch where you’re going,” Brooke looked up, startled at the harsh words thrown her way. The boy in front of her was easy to recognize: Draco Malfoy. He grimaced at her and shoved by, stalking impatiently to the open seating of the train that most Slytherins occupied. Of course it had to be a Malfoy, the one family her mother loved and father despised.





	1. Chapter 1

The compartment that Brooke found was thankfully empty but soon Dan came, his Ravenclaw robes already on, with two boys.

Brooke, as she shrank back into her corner, noted that the taller boy with the same hair as her brother was wearing a Hufflepuff scarf and a matching beanie and the other boy was wearing Slytherin robes.

“This is my sister,” Dan said breathlessly as they sat down, “Brooke. Brooke this is PJ and Phil and, oh, there’s Chris.” A boy in ruffled Gryffindor robes burst through the door, grinning. “Chris, this is Brooke.” She shook everybody’s hands and played with the necklace around her neck. What if they asked what house she was in? She hadn’t been sorted yet but it was a safe bet that she was in Ravenclaw, like her brother.

Like her whole family, really.

The Hufflepuff boy, Phil, would understand. Be sympathetic, even. But PJ, the curly-haired Slytherin would be cruel and callous. (At least, that’s what Brooke thought based on prior knowledge of the houses, as taught by her brother.) Chris, well, Brooke wasn’t sure how he would react. Dan had told her many stories about the boy and he seemed like the type that would make fun of her or sympathize.

A true Gryffindor.

“What house are you in?” PJ asked, sitting across from her. His tie was loose and his white shirt was rolled up. Brooke flushed, her teenage mind alight with thoughts that she shouldn’t think. He was only trying to be polite but an embarrassed flush crawled up Brooke’s neck. She looked toward the compartment door, where Phil, Dan and Chris were all buying sweets from the trolley.

“We don’t know yet,” Brooke said, playing with the hem of her rugged, black muggle band shirt. She had become fond of the band when they played a show in her town. Something about the smiling face with x’s for eyes and a strange looking smile made Brooke declare the grunge band her favorite, “I was homeschooled until this year. I’m going to be a third year.” PJ nodded.

“I’m a fourth year,” PJ said, even though he knew she already knew. He was in her brother’s class. “I’ll look out for you if you’re having trouble with anyone.” Suddenly PJ’s face lit up in a devious grin and he truly looked like a Slytherin. “Trust me, nobody messes with me.”

Dan, who had rejoined the conversation, nearly snorted the rest of his chocolate frog up his nose, “Only because you cursed Snape’s robes to snap at his heels like dogs in our first year.” Brooke laughed with the compartment.

“Detention for nearly a week,” Chris boasted, throwing an arm around his friend, “I was there, too, only because I had neglected to write an essay for ol’ Sevvy.” A prefect, from Hufflepuff, stopped by and knocked on the glass door.

“Best get your robes on, girl,” He pointed at Brooke, “It’s unbecoming to be late.” Phil facepalmed and waved the boy away.

“Sorry about my brother,” He said, leaning around Dan to look at Brooke, “He can be a bit of a prat.” Brooke shrugged.

“We can all be a bit of a prat sometimes,” She admitted sheepishly, “Especially Danny.” Brooke stood and retrieved her robes from her messenger bag, stepping around the boys to get out of the compartment. “He’s right, though, I better go change.” She shut the door behind her, the chatter of students returning or, like herself, going to Hogwarts for the first time, surrounding her. Eyes followed her as she made her way to the washroom and, whilst in the washroom, at least seven people hammered on the flimsy wood, cackling at the new girl.

Now, Brooke wasn’t the most feminine of girls, but she certainly filled out the white dress shirt. Instead of the skirt, Brooke had opted for black slacks with matching sneakers and a cardigan. None of that skirt and heels for her, no sir. (She would rather charm her own toes off than to be caught dead in a skirt, if she was being honest.)

Brooke tied up her dark, curly hair with a rubber band and then poked her wand through it. It was her favorite place to keep the dark and bendy piece of wood, as it was her prized possession. She tied the school tie around her neck, tightening it before staring at herself in the mirror that the train bathroom provided.

Sure, she was pretty. But was she pretty? It wasn’t what Brooke should have been thinking because there were more important things, like, say, her sorting, but it was a distraction. The teen sighed and exited the bathroom, stuffing her muggle clothing in her bag. This, of course, took her eyes away from the corridor she was trudging down and caused her to bump harshly into someone.

“Watch where you’re going,” Brooke looked up, startled at the harsh words thrown her way. The boy in front of her was easy to recognize: Draco Malfoy. He grimaced at her and shoved by, stalking impatiently to the open seating of the train that most Slytherins occupied. Of course it had to be a Malfoy, the one family her mother loved and father despised.

Of course.

On Brooke’s way back to her brother and his friends she caught the stunning green eyes of a boy with messy black hair and almost froze. Because it was Harry Potter. Like the Harry Potter. Harry “defeated the Dark Lord when he was a baby” Potter. Harry James Potter. Moments after their eyes met Brooke flushed, hard, and rushed down the corridor. She shook her head and stumbled a bit as the train jerked to a stop.

“What the hell?” She asked, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. Students were poking their heads out of the corridors and one boy, a ginger with grinning eyes, asked her if she knew what was going on.

“She looks more lost than you do, Freddie, leave the poor girl alone.” Another boy, the mirror of the first, pulled him back into the compartment.

Brooke decided to try and make it back to her brother before things got even stranger. She knew the train wasn’t supposed to stop anywhere- her studies at home had told her that much. Brooke had read Hogwarts: A History several times over to prepare for her journey and the train stopping was never, ever mentioned.

As Brooke neared a door to another compartment it burst open and two people, a boy and a girl, rushed by her. Brooke looked out the window to her right and pressed a hand to it. It was totally iced over and then the compartment was thrust into darkness. Brooke turned as she heard voices of shock and pain but then one voice echoed throughout the corridor. It was hoarse and low, “Quiet!”

And then the door in front of Brooke creaked open. The chill found her bones first, and then the sadness. The sadness she thought she had fought off using the muggle pills, one a day, the sadness she thought she would never feel again. As the cloaked figure moved closer, a bony hand extended to cup Brooke’s face, more feelings burned in her stomach.

Anger.

Pain.

Fear.

Images flashed before her eyes, too fast to recognize but she recognized them all the same. Brooke wanted to cry but she couldn’t. As her eyes fell closed, and she wondered if she would ever feel happy again, and then her mind fell into blackness, her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees gave out.

* * *

When Brooke came to, she was laying on the floor in a very, very full compartment. “Oh,” The same hoarse voice she heard shout before, “She’s awake.” The face, friendly and open, hovered in Brooke’s fuzzy vision.

“I am awake,” She groaned, sitting up and rubbing her head. Dan pushed himself off of his seat and wrapped his arms around his sister, watching Lupin warily as he handed Brooke a slab of chocolate.

“Eat this,” Lupin ordered, “It will help with the empty feeling in your chest.” Brooke recoiled in surprise because she had been feeling it since the moment she opened her eyes. How had Lupin known? The feeling had been in her chest before but the muggle medicine had taken it away and she had learned to deal with it on her own… So what was so different about chocolate?

Dan sat on the floor in front of Phil and let Brooke have his seat, the compartment silent for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

In the shuffle of getting their things and getting off of the train, Brooke lost Dan and the rest of his friends.

She was a third year so she was directed to go with the rest of the third years toward the horseless carriages that were supposed to take her to the castle.

Of course, she knew something had to be pulling them but the breath was knocked out of her when she looked up and saw a thestral. It snorted and tapped it’s hoof as students rushed around her, desperate to make it to the castle before the first years.

“Hey,” Brooke turned to find a girl with wild hair and kind eyes looking at her, “You look lost. Want to ride with us?” She gestured to the carriage that a ginger haired boy was climbing in and Brooke evaluated the situation. As far as she could tell there were only Gryffindors in the carriage so, when Brooke got sorted into Ravenclaw, they wouldn’t have to see each other.

_Perfect._

“Sure,” Brooke gave the girl a grateful smile, “Thank you. I’m Brooke… Brooke Bagnold.” She cringed when the girl’s eyes widened.

“I’m Hermione Granger, you know, I read about your mother,” Brooke held up a hand.

“My aunt,” And Hermione blushed, following after Brooke as she climbed in the carriage. “If you wouldn’t mind and it’s not too rude I would rather not talk about that right now.” Brooke added when she saw a very pale, very green looking Harry Potter sitting in the carriage as well. Her aunt, Millicent Bagnold, was the Minister of Magic at the time of Harry’s parent’s deaths and the Dark Lord’s fall.

A hard legacy to live up to, especially when her mother didn’t see eye to eye with her aunt.

“Of course,” Hermione nodded, catching on, “That’s fine.” And the carriage lapsed into an awkward, forced silence. Brooke busied herself with remembering as many muggle punk songs as she could, focusing on her hands clasped in her lap instead of the thestral pulling the carriage. She was the first one off when it stopped, the boy and Hermione followed.

“Look it’s the girl who fainted!” A voice crooned, startling Brooke. It was Malfoy. “And Potter! Look at how sick he looks! Longbottom had to be telling the truth!” Brooke scowled at the boy, rushing toward the stone steps before Malfoy stepped in her way, blocking her path. Harry stepped up beside her, looking less sick than he did in the carriage.

“Lay off, mate,” The other boy spoke up, pushing through Brooke and Harry to stare up at Draco definitely.

“Did it scare you, too, Weasley?” Draco sneered, his eyes glinting with jovial pride, “Little old Weasley, scared of a dementor?”

“Shut up, you twat!” Brooke finally shouted, her anger getting out of control, “At least his dad isn’t a-” Someone clamped a hand down onto her shoulder, stopping her voice in her tracks.

“It would be wise to not say anything more, Miss Bagnold,” Lupin advised, looking down on her. Malfoy was grinning at her, rage burning in his eyes, “In fact, I think you and I should go have a little chat with the headmaster, shall we?” Brooke nodded, out of sheer embarrassment and respect for an authority figure. (And she had to go see the headmaster to get sorted, anyway, so why not accompany Lupin? He seemed nice enough and he had helped her on the train when that… That thing attacked.)

“Sir, if I may ask you a question?” Lupin nodded, so Brooke felt it best to go on, “What was that thing that cupped my face on the train?” Lupin’s steps stuttered but he maintained his cool face.

“It cupped your face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It was a dementor, from Azkaban.” Brooke nodded. “You seemed almost as affected as Ginny and Harry.” They rounded a corner, the silence only broken by their breathing and their footsteps.

“Yes, sir,” Is all she could think to say. She tried not to focus on why Harry would be so affected, as it was obvious. But Ginny? Brooke had heard all about Ginny Weasley from Dan when he had come home. Possessed, taken over, manipulated by the Dark Lord in the form of a journal. (Harry had told the elder boy everything, as Dan was his confidant when nobody else was around.) Brooke could barely imagine what the girl had gone through.

She didn’t want to.

“I’ve felt that kind of sadness before, sir,” Brooke said when Lupin stopped in front of, what she assumed, was the staircase to the headmaster’s office, “I went years feeling that sadness-”

“-The emptiness,-”

Brooke nodded, “-the emptiness, every day for years.” Lupin placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled.

“If you ever need anything, Miss Bagnold, come see me. Your father and I were very good friends when we were here at Hogwarts together.” And then the professor turned to the staircase and said: “Candy floss,” before whisking away. Brooke looked at the opening and stepped onto the moving staircase, ready to get sorted.

* * *

The hat was staring at her, which was a ridiculous thought, but it was. It had a face, eyes even, and it was staring at Brooke. The headmaster, Dumbledore, was looking at Brooke as if he was reading her soul and he gestured to the hat.

“Please,” He said in a kind old man voice, “Place the sorting hat on your head so we can get you to the feast before he is needed for the first years.” But it wasn’t condescending. It was comforting to know that Brooke had Dumbledore there to watch her get sorted when her brother couldn’t, even though everybody already knew that she would be in Ravenclaw.

She had to be in Ravenclaw.

Brooke stepped forward and gripped the top of the hat, licking her lips. It was then or never, so Brooke put the hat on as fast as she could and squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw Ravenclaw!_ She chanted to herself, _I have to be in Ravenclaw._ A voice, small and inside her head, chuckled.

_Do you really?_

_Yes_ , she thought back, even though she felt silly talking back to a ragged old hat, _I have to be in Ravenclaw. I’ll do anything._

 _Anything?_ The curious cap drew out the question in a teasing manner.

 _Anything._ Brooke confirmed.

_That’s interesting, miss Bagnold. It tells me a lot about you. You have so much potential, and the brains to be in Ravenclaw. But you’re humble, like Hufflepuff. You’re strong willed like Gryffindor and Slytherin, cunning and brave._

_I don’t care!_ Brooke thought in a panic, ashamed at how long the hat was taking, _I don’t care about any of that! I want to be in Ravenclaw!_

The hat _tsked_ inside her head and then very audibly called out: “Slytherin!”

Dumbledore smiled and took the hat off of Brooke’s head as ice water ran in her veins, fear coiling her stomach into knots. With a wave of the headmaster’s hand her outfit changed from the school colors to the Slytherin colors. Dumbledore produced a robe, which Brooke shakily pulled on over her cardigan, dress shirt and newly green/silver tie.

“Thank you, sir, I’ll be going to the Great Hall now.” Dumbledore nodded and Brooke quickly left his office. She knew he wouldn’t be far behind but there was no point in alienating herself further by walking into the feast with the headmaster. She would already be the only non-first year without a pointed black hat, as she had forgotten hers on her bed the day of her departure. (Though she could owl her parents and ask for it, but Brooke wanted to see if it came with her pet cat, Infamy.)

Brooke tried not to think of the colors on her body, already readying herself for the howler she would get, and tried to remember the layout of the school from the map her brother had smuggled home last year. When she arrived at the Great Hall, Harry and Hermione were entering, so Brooke slipped in almost unnoticed behind them.

Everyone was so consumed with talking about Harry’s collapse that nobody noticed Brooke as she slid into a seat at the Slytherin tables. Well, PJ noticed.

And so did Dan, who, even as Dumbledore was speaking of the dementors at the school and of Sirius Black, gaped at his younger sister. Whether he was frightened or disgusted, Brooke couldn’t tell which. She was frightened out of a shameful staring contest when the Great Hall broke out into cheers, a jovial, giant man waving at the Gryffindor table with a proud smile.

What had Brooke missed? She decided she wasn’t going to look at her brother again, hell, maybe she wasn’t even going to talk to him again, until he approached her. Brooke spotted PJ waving at her, grinning, but was distracted by the golden platters in front of her filling with an assortment of food. Her stomach rumbled but her mind told her not to eat, still disgusted by the robes she was wearing and yearning for ones to match her brother’s. So she didn’t eat.

Brooke stared at her empty plate, and occasionally sipped on pumpkin juice, but she was ready to go to sleep. Just before the feast ended she felt a small tug on the edge of her trousers, causing her to recoil in surprise and reach her hand under the table. A small hand, like that off a child, presses a letter into Brooke’s and she immediately recognizes it as a house elf hand. Curious, she brings the letter to the table top an unfolds it, eyes widening when she sees the same handwriting as on her late-acceptance letter.

It’s from Dumbledore.

Her eyes skim the page and her stomach drops. On top of being the new girl, new Slytherin, in her third year, turned out that they didn’t have enough dorm rooms- unless she wanted to be housed with first years. (Brooke would rather hex off all her hair than do that, and the luscious curls were her best feature.) So, she would get her own room.

Which sounded luxurious. It sounded like something other Slytherin’s would envy her for. But she was already late making friends and having an isolated bedroom would just be lonely. Either way, Brooke thought, as she folded the letter and stuffed it in her robe pocket, at least I won’t have any trouble falling asleep.

* * *

The lake of silver and green walking down the stairs to the dungeon wasn’t hard to follow and, because Brooke kept her head down, nobody noticed her. Thankful she slipped through the door after a gaggle of first years and headed straight for the girl’s dorm. There would be a door there with only her name on it, only her stuff in the room.

Brooke, on some level, was thankful. She could cry herself to sleep in peace, mourn the loss of the identity that she had carried since birth. But there was also a side of loneliness. Brooke was used to being alone, she liked it even, but to be alone for her free time? In the late hours of the night?

A girl gripped Brooke’s shoulder just before she could enter her room, “You’re new, aren’t you?” Brooke turned and was startled when the girl who was speaking resembled… Well, a pug. Brooke had to keep a smirk from playing on her face.

“Yes,” She said, instead focusing on keeping a regal tone to her voice, “I am. My name is Brooke, Brooke Bagnold.”

“I’m Pansy Parkinson,” The girl turned up her nose, “I’m your neighbor,” She gestured to the door that had five names written in a regal, golden script which contrasted nicely against the black slab of wood, “I just figured you’d enjoy knowing who was having so much fun while you’re all alone.” Pansy’s face twisted into a cruel grin as she cackled.

“Parkinson?” Brooke said coolly, “I recognize the name. Say, doesn’t your Uncle work for my Aunt? Or did he lose his job when he embellished all of that money from her? I’m almost certain she fired him.”

Pansey’s face reddened as she looked over her shoulder, snarling at the group of girls giggling at Brooke’s snark. Brooke felt pride and satisfaction watching the other girl squirm.

“My Uncle never-”

“Oh,” Brooke rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and cocking her hip, “Maybe I should owl my aunt, or even my mother, and ask about your family, Parkinson. It’ll make you think twice about making fun of me.” Brooke pulled her wand from her hair, letting the charcoal curls cascade around her face. She toyed with the dark grey piece of wood before gesturing toward Pansy loosely with it. “I’m going to bed now, so if you’ll please leave. It would be best not to bother me.” And then Brooke reached behind her and opened the door, falling backward into the dark room. One wall was charmed to show what was on the other side, the dark green, shimmering lake, and the rest was filled with furniture that screamed regality.

Brooke liked it but her mind was racing. The way she had spoken to Pansy, purely in self defense of course, whirled in her head. Maybe, possibly, she belonged in Slytherin. A Ravenclaw would never…

She peeled off all of her clothing, putting away her belongings that sat at the end of her bed with one swipe of her wand and crawled under the blankets embellished with the house crest. The dark room reminded her of her own, back at her family’s manor; the familiarity lulled Brooke to sleep quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

Brooke was woken rudely by her alarm clock and she groaned, rubbing her eyes.

The silk sheets were soft against her skin, whispering and begging her to stay asleep. Brooke’s biggest fault was either never being able to sleep or never wanting to wake up. But she did, and she dressed lazily, barely paying attention as she tied her hair back and shoved her wand in her trouser pockets.

She knew it wasn’t the smartest but if there was a chance of Brooke needing to cast a spell she couldn’t be ripping out her hair to do it. Exiting her room she wasn’t surprised when the common room was filled with stumbling Slytherin’s, all really ready to start their day. Brooke breezed past them, a passive look on her face, as she headed for the Great Hall. Breakfast was a time when the students weren’t segregated based upon house and she could sit with her brother- if he would have her.

The Great Hall was sparsely filled and Brooke spotted Malfoy surrounded at the Slytherin table, pointing at Harry and pretending to pass out with grand gestures. She snarled at him before approaching the Ravenclaw table. Her brother sat with his back to her and he had his head laid on his arms, orange juice sitting stagnant in front of him.

Brooke threw her leg over the bench, sitting sideways and facing the boy with a mess of unstraightened hair on his head.

“Have we gotten anything in the post?” She asked, voice soft and vulnerable. Dan barely moved, tossing the package that sat on the other side of him at her. It rattled and hissed, causing Brooke to rip it open. A cat cage sat inside, Infamy trotting in small circles, meowing up at Brooke. The girl smiled and let the black cat from it’s cage. “Are you not going to speak to me?” Brooke asked, idly petting the cat.

“I don’t know what to think right now, s’all.” Brooke nodded and rose from the table, Infamy jumping down and curling around her feet. Breakfast still had a while to go but she needed the extra time to get to her first class. Brooke groaned, halfway down the hall, when she realized she didn’t pick up her third year timetable from the Slytherin table. Infamy squeaked at her angrily when she picked up the feline, curling her arms around him. Brooke turned, planning on marching back to the table, picking up her timetable and maybe slapping Malfoy on the back of the head but instead PJ came jogging from the Great Hall, clutching a slip of parchment in his hand.

“Brooke!” He called when he saw her stroking her cat down the hall, “I’ve your timetable!” He handed it over when he reached the shorter girl, grinning down on her. “Can’t be forgetting that, can we?” Brooke shook her head and observed the boy. Mahogany curls fell into his eyes, which were a brilliant shade of a blue/green that had hints of mint coloring in the sun. He was an attractive fellow and the flush on his cheeks, messy robes, made Brooke very aware of it.

“Thank you, PJ,” Brooke said politely, “I was just coming back for this.” PJ reached his hand out to stroke Infamy’s head and suddenly Brooke was hyper-aware of the cat curled in her arm and how close his hand was to her blouse. PJ smiled at her and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to get to class. I would say that I’ll see you later, but you’re only a third year so…” PJ laughed and Brooke giggled along too. She let her cat down and he protested by rubbing a paw down her leg.

“Hey, PJ,” She called, drawing PJ’s attention as he was walking away, “You know my last name but I don’t know yours!” PJ, at the other end of the hallway, grinned.

“It’s Liguori!” Brooke smiled and looked down at her timetable, setting off for her first class of the day.

* * *

Lunch came quickly for Brooke, who’s head was spinning from new information, new kids, new experiences. She was exhausted and still had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch. Dumbledore spoke and then the platters filled, Brooke’s stomach rumbling. She made herself a sandwich and ate it before downing a jug of pumpkin juice. Brooke had always eaten fast, even at home alone.

She wiped her mouth and tried to avoid the stare of PJ, who had sat down across from her. “It’s unbecoming of a politician to ignore a loyal follower,” He teased when Brooke would not meet his eyes.

“I am not a politician,” She remarked, smiling, “That’s my aunt.” PJ picked up a crisp and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly while he overlooked her as she shyly let her hand glide over Infamy’s head. Her cat was clingy at best, overprotective at worst. He glared at PJ, if it were possible for a cat to glare, and hissed every time the boy’s hands would venture too close to his owner’s.

“If you’re not a politician, what are you?” PJ’s lopsided grin fell when someone behind Brooke cleared their throat. Brooke craned her neck, looking up at the smirking slimeball that was third year Draco Malfoy, fellow Slytherin, fellow privilege full blood.

“I would say,” He drawled, “That Bagnold is a traitor to her family. Getting sorted into Slytherin really put a drag on Mummy’s Ravenclaw dreams, didn’t it?” Malfoy barely had time to punctuate his sentence with a smirk before Brooke was on her feet and pushing the tip of her wand into his adam’s apple.

Brooke’s wand, made from hazel wood, was not the ideal wand when Brooke lost her temper. Hazel wood, in a wand, was very responsive to it’s owners feelings and, usually, that would be a good thing. Daughter of a diplomat and heir to a very rich inheritance, Brooke could usually keep her cool. But not when it came to her Ravenclaw lineage and the rip in the purity she was creating. The hazel wood, paired with her unicorn hair core, made for a very loyal, powerful wand that began vibrating with her anger.

“Say another word about my family, Malfoy, and I’ll hex you six ways to Sunday. Your own mummy wouldn’t be able to recognize your ratty little face,” The anger running through her veins was uncharacteristically red hot and Brooke could feel her breathing deepen. Almost all of the eyes in the room were on the standoff between them and if her mother hadn’t already sent a howler for the Slytherin placement, one was sure to greet Brooke for making such a fool out of the Bagnold name.

Malfoy didn’t say anything, looking down his nose at the furious girl, “There’s obviously a reason I’ve been placed in Slytherin,” She continued, “Do you honestly want to find out on our first day of classes?” Malfoy shook his head, but the movement was so small Brooke barely saw it. She lowered her still vibrating wand and, just before she pocketed it, it emitted a stream of red sparks that scuffed Malfoy’s shoes and ignited the edges of his robes. He shrieked and backpedaled, stomping on the edges to try and put out the flame. Black smoke curled in the air as he sneered at Brooke, making nasty promises under his breath before striding from the room. Brooke rolled her shoulders and put on her cool face, the one that made grown men from foreign countries shiver with fright.

Infamy mewed, as if in congratulations, while other students shrank back in fear when Brooke’s icy green eyes fell upon them.

“Smooth,” PJ said when she sat back down, “Malfoy’s a right git, he is. I’ve been wanting to do something like that since my second year.” Brooke shook her head.

“My mother is already going to have my head on a pike for being sorted into Slytherin, so why don’t I take it all the way? Go big or go home.” PJ laughed and his eyes followed Brooke as she strutted from the Great Hall, ready for Care of Magical Creatures.

The weather outside was nice and, just in front of her, she could see the back of Harry Potter’s head. Vaguely, she wondered what he was thinking. Creepily, she wondered if he knew her aunt was in the ministry when his parents were killed. Guilty, she never wanted him to find out. Of course, when she reached Hagrid’s, Malfoy was there giggling with his friends. He made another mockery of Harry, swooning as if he had passed out and then cackling amongst the other Slytherin’s surrounding him. Brooke rolled her eyes and shuffled from foot to foot before approaching the trio of friends.

Class hadn’t started yet so it gave Brooke the perfect opportunity to spark up a conversation; which, if she was honest, was not something she was good at. “If I didn’t know better, and I don’t because I’m new here, I’d say Malfoy was in love with you or something.” And Harry, Hermione and Ron each looked up so fast Brooke was afraid they’d get whiplash.

“Pardon?” Harry asked, flush crawling up his neck. Brooke chastised herself and felt the urge to pinch her arm.

“I was just, I mean,” She stuttered, “I was making a joke. About how Malfoy is mocking you. It’s quite sad, really.” Ron grinned and agreed, launching into a tirade about how much of a git Malfoy really was- until Hagrid emerged from his hut, grinning under his wild beard.

“Alri’, follow me!” Brooke’s heart thumped with excitement; the book in her bag wriggling even though she had belted it shut. The previous week she had learned a calming charm, even though her brother taught her to stroke the spine and the book would open, so in preparation she removed her wand, stumbling along the path next to Hermione and behind Ron and Harry.

Another unique aspect of Brooke’s wand was it’s water seeking capabilities. The wood of her wand was very responsive to underground wells and springs and, if it passed over them, a puff of silver smoke in the shape of a tear-drop with emerge from the tip unprompted. This startled Hermione when it happened on the way to their lesson, but Brooke explained it in a low whisper to the fascinated Gryffindor.

Brooke rolled her eyes when Malfoy’s drawling voice interrupted Hagrid when they finally reached the enclosure. “How are we supposed to open our books?” Many students, like Brooke and Harry, had belted their books shut but Malfoy had closed his with a loose bit of weak twine.

“I use a calming charm, personally,” Brooke said, voice carrying over to where Malfoy was snarling, “But that’s a bit advanced for you, isn’t it, Malfoy?” His hand twitched toward his wand but Hagrid glared.

“You just stroke the spine,” The professor instructed, “Nobody figured tha’ out?” Brooke raised her hand and Hagrid smiled under his beard, “Good on you, Bagnol’.”

“How were we supposed to figure out we needed to stroke the bloody spine?” Another harsh voice called.

“Yeah! This is rubbish!”

Hagrid looked discouraged, but Harry immediately jumped in, “I think it’s brilliant. What better book to have than a monster book that teaches us about monsters?” The half giant smiled at the Slytherin girl and then disappeared into the forest to retrieve the Magical Creatures. Malfoy snarled something under his breath that Brooke didn’t hear and Potter rounded on him. Brooke, knowing it was most likely something about their Professor, turned with a snarl on her face, as well.

“Watch out, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, pointing a thin finger behind the group, “There’s a dementor heading this way!” Brooke, just as scared as Harry, whipped around and gasped. There was no dementor, however Hagrid entered the clearing again, several Hippogriffs attached to a leash in his hand.

Brooke gasped again, but with delight. Her family, on her father’s side, was into racing Hippogriffs so she knew everything there was to know about them. Even then, she didn’t want to step up and show off her privilege. Brooke was surprised when Harry Potter stepped up, and even more surprised when Buckbeak flew him in the air around the paddock. The class soon approached them and Brooke, who had been paired with Longbottom, from Gryffindor, decided to show off her experience.

“Here,” She offered to step in front of the shaking boy, “Allow me.” He nodded and brushed a hand through his blond hair. He was sweating and, even though Brooke agreed that it was muggy out, she knew it was from the nerves and being around such a large creature.

Brooke approached the Hippogriff, named Cherry, and smiled before bowing deeply and keeping eye contact. Cherry snorted, flapping her wings and stopping her talons. Brooke didn’t back down and, after a few tense moments in which Longbottom was probably about to pass out from the tension, the bird hybrid bowed and closed her eyes in respect. Brooke stood and bounced excitedly over to the animal, running her hand through the feathers on her neck.

“Come over here, Neville,” She gestured for the nervous boy to approach. He did, patting the creature and flinching back when Cherry nuzzled her beak into his neck. “She likes you,” Brooke pointed out, admiring the smooth expanse of muscles. If every Care of Magical Creatures class was like that one, Brooke decided, she would love it. Brooke could hear Malfoy talking extra loud, probably trying to egg on Harry, but then she gasped and whipped around just in time to watch Buckbeak rear up and tear into the boy’s arm.

Hagrid fell upon the creature, trying to wrestle him back into the collar and Brooke was there in a second, hands raised and making soft clucking noises with her mouth. Buckbeak seemed to respond well, letting Hagrid collar him and then pushing against one of Brooke’s hands with his beak. Her house was all shouting at Hagrid as Malfoy milked the laceration, crying about death and moaning about pain.

“It was Malfoy’s fault, anyhow!” Brooke shouted at them, in sync with a Gryffindor boy.

“Class dismissed!” Hagrid said in a panic, picking Malfoy up, “Lesson over!”

“He should be fired!” Pansy shrieked following after Hagrid. Brooke fought the urge to hex her retreating figure and instead was sated by making a branch levitate just enough so that the girl would trip over it and land on her face. She followed, with the rest of the class and tripped up the complaining Slytherin’s every once and awhile. Yes, they were her house, but she felt no pride. She felt shame and disgust by their actions.

Even though she, too, was acting as a Slytherin. She entered the common room, exiting quickly to her dorm. She hadn’t unpacked and was surprised to see a parcel on her bed. With a flick of her wand, Brooke’s things were unpacked and her room was decorated and the parcel was opened. It was clothing- and lot’s of it. Slytherin clothing: t-shirts, tank tops, socks, hats, a scarf and glove set, and hooded sweatshirts. There was even a pair of thick sweats with Slytherin written on it. Below that was Hogwarts clothing, identical to the Slytherin, but with the school crest and name instead.

She smiled and rolled her shoulders, putting that clothing away with a flick of her wand, too. How nice of… Whoever sent it to her. (Brooke would never tell anyone but she heavily suspected Dumbledore or Lupin.) A knock at her door prompted Brooke to open it, surprised when Severus Snape was behind it.

“I have been informed that one of our own has been injured in class and sent to the infirmary.” Brooke nodded.

“Malfoy,” She said.

“And since you are the only one here that isn’t crying,” He cast a dark look over his shoulder to the common room, where Pansy was leaning on Blaise and falsely weeping, “I would like to send you to go check on the Malfoy boy. I would but I am not particularly fond of Madame Pomfrey. And it would do you good to make some friends, Bagnold.”

Brooke suspected it was because in her mother’s first year Severus asked her to Hogsmeade and she refused.

“I have plenty of friends,” She lied, “Like Granger and Potter. Longbottom, too, I think.” Snape’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Go see Malfoy in the infirmary or two hundred points from Slytherin.” Brooke glared, already finding herself hating the head of her house. It was the first day of classes and most of her house already hated her. Brooke wanted to give them no more reason to dislike her.

“Yes, sir,” She said, “But what if I’m late to my next class?” Snape rolled his eyes.

“You next class is Divination, your professor shall foresee your lateness. Now, off with you.” Brooke sighed and pocketed her wand, sliding around Snape and shutting the door to her dorm. Of course he would choose the most reluctant of Slytherin’s to check on their Prince. Brooke, of course, didn’t see him like that. She saw him as a filthy poor excuse of a student, and less of a man. With a Death Eater as a father, though, she expected nothing less. Not everybody could be the niece of a former politician or the daughter of two diplomats who could be considered politicians if they tried hard enough.

And her family’s positions of power held privilege for Brooke, and she knew it, too. How many other witches her age could say they had studied under the headmaster or headmistress of Uagadou? Much less say that they joined their school team at the International Symposium of Animagi. Brooke doubted that even Draco Malfoy, whose family ran in some of the same circles as her own, could boast that. But, seeing as Brooke was raised by diplomats and traveled with them all over the world to attend such meetings and meet with other, foreign ministry officials, she was able to put on a passive face as she entered the hospital wing.

Malfoy was sitting upright in the bed farthest from the door, his arm in a sling and a book propped up on his lap. He looked up as Brooke approached, a smirk splitting his face.

“Missed me already?” He drawled, “I always knew you fancied me.”

“I’ve known you one day, you git,” Brooke said, stopping next to his bed, “Either I came to check on you or Snape took two hundred points from his own ruddy house.” Malfoy’s smirk fell from his face, “I see you’re recovering nicely so I will be on my way.” Brooke smiled and bowed her head before spinning around.

Before she could leave, Malfoy grabbed her wrist. “My Father sends his regards to your Mother.” Brooke’s heart froze and she knew the message had an underlying meaning. She turned, slowly removing her wand from her robes, before pointing it at Malfoy’s nose.

“I would suggest you leave my Mother out of your discussions with Daddy,” Brooke’s voice was dangerously low, “Before you don’t have a mouth to use in the discussions.” She reached out the hand that wasn’t holding her wand and brought it down swiftly on his injured arm, causing Malfoy to bend over and howl.

“My father will hear about this!” Malfoy shouted after Brooke as she stalked from the room, late for Divination and shaking with rage.


	4. Chapter 4

Brooke was set to monitor Malfoy’s recovery, something that was taking a toll on her.

He often liked to brag that he was aware of her mother’s side-trips and she liked to threaten him with a limb removal hex.

Each day she saw herself as more of a Slytherin.

The day Malfoy was slotted to return to a normal school day, instead of dragging out his injury in the hospital wing, Brooke was near breakdown. Her hands were shaking, heart racing, and she felt like she was going to cry the whole day. She tried to avoid Malfoy the Thursday he came back but it was near impossible when she shared almost every class with him. It was at the end of the day, after an exhausting dinner spent sitting next to PJ and Malfoy (who argued over every little thing, mind you) that Brooke decided her brother couldn’t ignore her anymore. It was stressing her out and she needed his firm side to lean on- like he promised her. She needed a shoulder to cry on that would understand.

He was there when she got the howler from their mother three days previous and, since then, had refused to make eye contact. Brooke knew that he had prior knowledge that it was coming because Dan wrote to their mother everyday and she him.

So, instead of going to the Slytherin common room with the rest of her house after dinner had ended, she followed the Ravenclaws to theirs and waited until everyone was inside. They surely wouldn’t let her walk in with the lot of them so Brooke only had the hope that should could get in after. She wondered what precautions the Ravenclaw common room had- was it a password, like the Slytherin’s? She came face to face with the door and knocked, surprised when a voice answered.

“They come without fetching in the night, and leave without being stolen.”

Brooke was taken aback, “I’m sorry?” The voice just repeated itself. Brooke thought through it, slumping against the wall and making a list.

“Well,” She said finally, “That could be any number of things. Like stars, or dreams.” The door clicked open and Brooke gasped. She hadn’t expected it to work, really. She was a Slytherin and, well, not really allowed in the Ravenclaw tower. She had read somewhere, or maybe Hermione had told her, that the knocker in the shape of an eagle had kept nearly everyone out for a thousand years. She stepped in and tried to blend in with the shadows, skirting around the edge of the room.

There were two younger Ravenclaw students half asleep in front of the fire, allowing Brooke to skirt around the darkened edges of the common room and slip into the boy’s dorm. It was strange, being in the Ravenclaw dorm, let alone the boy’s dorms. Luckily everyone besides her brother seemed to be holed up in another dorm and the boy she was looking for was already in his pajamas, making his bed for the night.

“Dan,” Brooke breathed, watching as her brother started and whipped around, wand at the ready, “I’m sorry.” What was she apologizing for? There was no need for her to apologize but there she was, shaking and saying sorry.

“Brooke?” Dan asked, “Who let you in?” He lowered his wand, tossing it on his bed as he rushed forward, pulling Brooke into his dorm room and shoving his head from to door to check for lurking students, “You can’t be in Ravenclaw tower!” He slammed the door and Brooke locked it with a wave of her wand.

“I need to talk to you,” She whispered, looking at her feet. “I can’t do another day of taking care of Malfoy and I need my big brother back,” In a moment of weakness Brooke let herself cry and become young again. Dan sighed, leaning back against the locked door. He closed his eyes, rubbing them with the butt of his hands.

“You still can’t just barge in here-!” Brooke felt her heart drop and her shaking in crease. Of course her brother didn’t want her, a Slytherin, and didn’t want to talk with her. She looked toward her feet, already trying to make up an escape plan to get back out of the tower. “Look,” Dan said after a long silence, “I understand how you’re feeling.”

“No you don’t!” Brooke shouted, sparks forming at the tip of her wand from the anger bubbling up in her head, “You don’t understand how I feel!” Dan rushed forward to shush her, his hand covering her mouth. He glared at her before pushing her back and placing a finger to his lips.

“You can’t go sneaking into my dorm and then shouting! You’re going to get me in trouble!” Brooke pushed him off and spun around, dropping her wand to thread her fingers in her hair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” She whispered, “I need to borrow your owl.” Her voice took on a tone of determination as she flattened her pants with sweaty hands, bending to pick up her wand. “I want to message Carly.” Brooke, with years of practice, put on a face of boredom and leveled her emotions. Both Brooke and Dan had grown up watching their parents do the very same, putting on masks to make deals and fake out other businessmen.

“Brooke,” Dan whispered, wrapping his fingers around her arm for a brief moment, “Don’t do this.” She turned with a smile, wrapping her arms around Dan in a hug.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” She chirped, unlocking the door and stepping out into the dark common room. The fire was burning low and people were starting to go to bed so Brooke put her hood up and hurried through the common room, almost at a dead sprint. Brooke slammed out the door, barely avoiding two, small first years on their way into the common room.

“That’s a Slytherin!” One of them yelled, a chubby finger pointing after Brooke as she ran down the steps. Brooke’s feet hit the ground and she was immediately running, jumping down the steps and twisting around corners with barely a thought. The password for her common room fell from her lips and suddenly Draco was standing in front of her. He looked confused, almost running into her, and then his confusion turned to malicious intent.

“Bagnold,” He dragged her name out on his treacherous tongue, “How nice to see you.”

With a start Brooke realized her wand still laid on the floor of Dan’s dorm and she cursed herself for her stupidity. With a start and a shove past Malfoy she thought perhaps that is why I was not placed into Ravenclaw with my brother. Her mind was reeling with sadness, pain, and longing for her nanny, Carly. She hadn’t contacted the woman since preparing for the train to Hogwarts and felt the pain of loneliness was begging to edge at her facade, the one she learnt as a child, traveling and growing up with her diplomatic parents.

Brooke shirked through the students in the common room, tucking her arms under each other with her head down when a hand landed harshly on her shoulder, twisting her body and coming close. “Brooke, where’s the fire?” He had a wide smile on his face, eyes sparkling in the firelight, the light emanating from the lake casting a glow over his skin. “Class is over for the day and I’ve to owl my father. Do you want to come with me?”

Brooke knew she should- PJ was being friendly and he was one of her brother’s friends. Plus, the owlery had owls for her to use but, still, Brooke looked longingly to the door to the girl’s dorms. She wanted to sleep, to start fresh in the morn but instead Brooke nodded. “Yes,” Her voice is professional, political, “Of course. Thank you, PJ. Let me fetch my parchment and quill so I can send my own letter!” PJ smiled, as if he knew what she was dealing with, going through, and as she pushed into her dorm she spotted a figure by her bed.

Brooke froze in fear but relaxed when it was merely a house elf, gently placing her wand on her bedside table. He noticed her a second after she noticed him, both of their eyes wide, and then with a crack the elf disappeared. She was glad, if only secretly, that Dan cared enough to return her wand - even if through house elf. It was a start, she thought, as she gathered her things. Since classes were done for the day, the last class of that Wednesday being Herbology, she could feel herself unwinding from academic stress, personal stress building and building. PJ was still waiting for her when she pushed out of the door to the girl’s dorm, having abandoned her cloak and cardigan, settling for just her white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up.

“Come on, Bagnold, your loyal follower awaits!” PJ’s joke echoed around the room and he linked arms with her, easily pulling the small girl out of the common room. Malfoy was there, leant against the wall opposite of the mall, dungeon hall with two goons no doubt friends of his family. She could recognize them, barely, but that’s because her mother probably had their fathers or mothers frequent their home - or the opposite. Her father had no idea and, so, Brooke stared down the boys before PJ pulled her up a set of steps. “So,” PJ spoke softly, treading lightly as the school approached lights out, “Your family. They’re quite famous, you know. Your Aunt was Minister when Potter defeated You-Know-Who, your mother was rumored to be a Death Eater but married into your father’s family, a family of diplomats. Then they had you, and for the first years of your life you studied in Uagadou under the headmistress or headmaster of the day. Amazing, really. You’re famous around here, especially for your participation in the Uagadou’s School Team of Animagi and the fact that you probably possess the capability to do magic without your wand.”

“Of course I do,” She stated, “The wand was created in the Western world. Magic originated in Africa.” Brooke wasn’t phased by PJ reciting her history to her, no, that didn’t shock her anymore. Plenty of kids could do it- Bagnold was a heavy name to have and, besides Potter, she was one of the bigger names at Hogwarts. “What about you, Mister Liguori? We’ve been friends for nearly two weeks and yet, I know nothing about you. My brother isn’t speaking to me and he’s where I used to get my information.”

They began to climb the stairs to the owlry when PJ pulled away and pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, “Not much to say,” He mused, “I make music, my parents work at the ministry. Ho-hum boring life, and all that.” He waved a large hand through the air before he stopped to hold the door open for Brooke and she stepped hesitantly into the owlery. She clutched the quill and the parchment as PJ searched for his owl amongst the Hogwarts supplied owls. Brooke spotted Dan’s owl, clucking and patting a perch in front of her as she began to write out the note, quickly scribbling. She ran a hand over Downy’s feathers before attaching the rolled piece of parchment to the owl’s leg, kissing her beak.

“To Carly, please. Treats for you when you arrive back.” Downy cooed and flew off, soaring around the room before exiting through a window that was letting a draft in. Brooke wrapped her arms around herself, looking up and around at the owls, when PJ walked softly up to her, a hand low on her back. “I don’t think Dan will ever speak to me again. I know that my mother and father won’t.”

“Well, you don’t need them.” He said, voice low, “Dan… Dan will come around. Then you will have Phil, Chris, Dan, and I. Your mother and father’s views have always been skewed, you know, trying to keep a Ravenclaw bloodline. THe only other house that relies that much on bloodlines-”

“-Is Slytherin.” Brooke looked up at PJ and smiled, laughing a little bit. “I just… I’m not sure whether or not I’ll be allowed home during the holidays.” After a moment of consideration Brooke stepped away and turned toward the door. “I suppose that I’ll have to be home, for the parties.” She began down the steps and PJ meandered behind her.

“Ah, yes, the Ministry parties. I have to go and both of my parents are only employees of the Ministry- I’m not related to the Minister Bagnold, nor am I related to two world renowned diplomats.” Brooke snorted, looking over her shoulder at PJ, as they began walking back to the common room. “If it makes you feel any better, I can find you at these parties and pretend to be your date.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Brooke was nearly asleep over her eggs, readying herself for Malfoy’s first Potions class back.

She had spent all night worrying over her studies, listening to the knocks and giggles from the Slytherin girls next door to her, wondering and worrying about her brother. “Are you ready for class, Bagnold?” Malfoy’s voice was cool, calm, as he slid into the seat next to her, causing her shoulders to tense.

“Oh, yes,” She drawled, propping her head on her elbow as she lazily gazed at him, “Thrilled. How is your arm, Malfoy? Still hurting?” He looked down and threw a sly look beside him, where his cronies sat talking amongst themselves. When he took too long to answer Brooke held her hand out and then jerked it toward her chest, Malfoy’s arm moving with it. His eyes snapped back to her, blue, hard, cold and his face surprised. “Oh, must not be. Shame the sling is going to waste because it doesn’t really hurt.”

“Madame Pomfrey makes a wonderful pain serum, you really must try it.” Malfoy’s voice was tight and his hand reached for his wand. She knew that Hogwarts didn’t teach about the other schools lest students find it in their interest to leave Hogwarts. Malfoy had probable never witnessed someone do wandless magic and he was on edge.

Brooke’s eyes twitched and then she sat up and reached for her utensils, a fork and knife in each hand held tightly and perfectly. She had been taught how to eat daintily and softly, not making noise or drawing attention to herself. Malfoy watched her for a second, until Chris, Phil, and PJ all sat down noisily across from them and then he turned his back on them.

“Good morning,” She said, “You’re loud.” Chris and Phil grinned at each other. “What? What am I missing?” Immediately they began talking all at once, overwhelming Brooke with the cacophony of chatter from the fourteen year old boys. She set down her fork and knife, chewing softly on a bite of egg.

“Dan’s comin’ ‘round, you know,” Chris reached across the table and snatched a scrap of her bacon, shoving it whole into his mouth. Brooke watched and, with a start, wondered where the boy’s manners were. After a moment she realized no, not everyone was raised in the house she was raised. “Peej talked to him last night, we talked to him today.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Brooke sighed, looking at the Gryffindor across from her and his grinning, Hufflepuff cohort. She thought it weird, a Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin making up a pack of friends. As she gazed at PJ’s grinning face she couldn’t help but think that there was no room for her within the group. “Really. My brother and I have had our spats and we’ve all come out fine.” Six eyes looked doubtful over her and she picked up her utensils again, looking to her plate. As she ate she could hear PJ mumbling under his breath to his friends, asking them to leave, because he could handle it. And she hated that she had to be handled by one of her brother’s friends- maybe that was because she didn’t have any friends even after two weeks.

“Brooke,” PJ sighed, hands closing over her own, stopping them, “Look. This isn’t something you can just get over. This is lineage. Imagine if your brother married out of your purity-” Brooke jerked away, scowling, “Okay, you know, bad example. Dan doesn’t care about that either, nor should you. But think about your mother, how much she would care, if you or Dan married out of your purity.” Brooke sighed, nodding, as she looked to her plate and set down her utensils one last time. Her hunger was gone and, from her peripheral vision, she could see Malfoy trying hard not to look at her. She knew that he was listening, hearing everything they were saying, and that it would eventually end up to her parents. She didn’t care, pulling away emotionally and physically.

“I don’t want to be late to potions, PJ. Thank you for talking to my brother, PJ. I mean it.” Smally, she smiled at him, before turning on her heel and fingering her wand in her slacks pocket. She felt small, exhausted. It was only morning- not even first! She had Potions, Transfiguration, Potions (again), Defence Against the Dark Arts, and then Care of Magical Creatures with the rest of the afternoon off. She could make it, right? It was only Thursday… Just get through that day, to Friday, and on Friday she only had three classes…

Brooke took a deep breath just before entering the dungeons, closing her eyes. “I can do this,” She whispered. “I can do this.” A hand, gentle, bandaged, landed on her elbow.

“Bagnold,” Malfoy’s was annoyed, cold, but there was something underneath it, “I’ve come to accompany you to class.” She sighed and turned to Malfoy who looked as stone cold as her gut felt.

“Did PJ send you?” She asked, “Please, don’t pander to his wishes, Malfoy. It’s unbecoming of you.” He snorted and his grip tightened onto her elbow and, for once, both of their facades dropped at once.

“Liguori didn’t send me, Brooke. Check your ego, please, and let’s go to class.”

* * *

Brooke watched, from across the room, as Malfoy taunted Harry Potter, trying to search for the right ingredients to ask and the feelings to push aside. Brooke was mulling over her feelings, side eying Malfoy for not helping. He was talking loudly, about someone named Sirius Black, talking about Harry’s past, when she finally snapped.

“Malfoy,” Brooke’s knife came down harder onto the thing, the thing she wasn’t sure of the name of, harder than she meant to. He turned, one eyebrow cocked, and bristled. His cronies were smirking, talking with their heads close together, “Can you help? Or am I going to do this all on my own?” He seemed offended that Brooke asked him to help and she just continued chopping, tossing the halves into the stewing pot of potions.

“I presume you’re going to do this on your own.” Her eyes widened and she could feel anger bubbling in her stomach. She knew, because it was written in her potions book, that if she were to add one more half of… the thing that it would explode and she was sure that Snape would believe her because she could turn on the waterworks, manipulate Snape against Malfoy… Either way they would lose points but it wouldn’t be her fault, no.

He seemed to figure out what she was thinking, grabbing her wrist in his, “Fine,” He griped, “You can step back and twiddle your thumbs while I do all the work.” She scoffed and made the last chop angrily and stepped back, eyeing the clock hanging in the room. All she wanted to do was head for Transfiguration while her potion brewed, one respite from Malfoy as she sat next to Potter instead of Malfoy.

However, instead of heading for Professors McGonagall’s class, someone grasped her arm and tugged her into an empty class. Her wand was out, vibrating, and pointed at the end of PJ’s nose. She sighed, shaking her head, putting her wand back into her pocket. “Are you serious? PJ, please, I have to get to class.” But the boy grinned boyishly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He seemed all playful and smiley, but she was nothing like him. Brooke was grim and dark, glaring at him.

“Come on, Bagnold. Chris got ahold of some information and we’re sneaking out to the Shrieking Shack. Your brother’s going to be there.” He was grinning, a flush on the apple of his cheeks, as his hands found the bottom of his pockets. “Come on, Brooke, you should come out.”

She sighed, looking around the room as she shuffled from foot to foot, “I’ve heard we’re doing boggarts today in Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Brooke looked back to PJ, biting her lip. He was gazing at her, warmth in his eyes.

“If you’re doing boggarts today, you’re doing boggarts for the next three weeks.” He said, “Come on, we have to go if you wish to go!” She smiled, briefly, and PJ took that as his answer, grasping her hand and tugging her from the classroom.


End file.
